Park
by Dragonblossom
Summary: PreIsland story. Roger realizes a few things about his life.


A/N: Hi everyone! I just read Lord of the Flies at school and I loved that book. Ok, I wondered why Roger was so sadistic and this little story came to mind. It takes place before the island, Roger is probably about six or seven in this story.

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Flies or any of its characters.

Roger looked at all the kids in front of him. They were running around chasing each other obviously playing tag, but none of them seemed to know who was it. It was a warm sunny spring day, and many parents had taken their kids to the park after having months of bitter cold weather. Roger's dad had done this, and that was not something he would normally do. He was always at work and usually came home very late.

Roger sat on a swing watching the other kids play. A fly buzzed around his head and landed on his forehead. He brushed it off almost immediately. He looked over to a near by sandbox where two little girls were building sandcastles. They actually looked more like mountains or pyramids, and sometimes kids would run through them, knocking them down, and the girls would have to start all over again. The girl's would get mad when this would happen because their sandcastles were pretty big.

After a while of watching, Roger jumped off his swing and ran to play with the other kids. He was usually very quiet, but was never really shy. He chased some of the other kids in the out of control mob. One time he crashed into a kid and was knocked to the ground. The kid apologized but Roger said nothing. He never got to play with other kids very often so this was a lot of fun for him.

The sun soon began to set and one by one parents called their kids to go home. The numbers slowly began to diminish till the only ones remaining were Roger and another kid. But soon, that boy's parents called him to leave.

Roger waited for his dad to call his name so he too, could go home. But he never heard it. He looked around the now dark empty park, and not one person could be seen. Panic started to set in and he frantically looked around for any signs of his dad. Maybe he was just off somewhere getting the car, or talking to a friend.

Slowly, he made his way over to the swings and sat down in one and swung slowly, waiting for his dad to come and get him. The sky behind him was orange and turning dark blue. The sun could just barely be seen off in the distance and the temperature was dropping. Crickets and the creaking of the rusting chains of the swing were the only things that could be heard. Sometimes, a cool wind would blow.

Where was his dad? Why wasn't he here? Roger eyed his wrist. Many bruises, all in different stages of healing, decorated it. He had other bruises similar to those, but they were in places he wouldn't show to others. No other kid he met ever had them like he did.

He then knew his dad wasn't coming. Why should he even have expected it? It's not like this was the first time something like this had happened. His dad was always gone when it got dark. He spent so much of his time at pubs you would think he lived there. When his dad would finally come home, he was always angry and Roger always tried to stay far away from him.

Roger wondered if his mom would come out looking for him. He shook his head. His mom was always late to pick him up, and she seemed to always blame him for anything that went wrong at home. His dad's drinking problems were his fault. If his mom forgot to do something, she blamed him. Even one time Roger stepped on a broken wine bottle, and his mother yelled at him for that because he was getting blood on the good carpet.

Anger began to over take Roger. He would have to find his own way home now. Did he even want to go home? It's not like anyone would miss him if he stayed at the park all night. It was getting cold and he didn't have a jacket with him. He wanted to lash out at his parents, scream at them, tell them to stop it, show them that he was angry. But he couldn't. Only they were allowed to do that. And even if he did do anything, he would only get what ever he did back hundreds of times worse.

Why not someone else then? How about one of those kids who got to go home with their parents? Or one of the kids at his school? No, they would only tell, and he would get into more trouble.

Frustrated and angry, Roger stood up and walked over to the sandbox. The sandcastles the girls had been making earlier were still standing. He sat down in an empty spot and traced a stick figure with his finger in the sand. The little faceless figure seemed to be laughing at him. He scowled at it and saw that one of the girls had left a shovel behind. He snatched it up and began violently jabbing the stick figure until there was no sign that it was ever there. Roger stood up and looked down at the sandcastles. He stamped all over them and kicked sand everywhere. Energy seemed to be rushing through him as he did this. Sand flew out of the box and toys that kids hand left behind were scattered.

When he was finished, Roger sat down all worn out and breathing heavily. After a few moments, he eyed the destruction, and smiled. The sky was almost black and stars were now visible. Gas lamps in the park were lit. Another fly landed on Roger's forehead, but this one he didn't brush off.

A/N: I'll admit, that was a little strange. Tell me what you think. I might write a story for Simon.


End file.
